


After Hours

by arituzz



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex, Smut, Watford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 07:36:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10531875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arituzz/pseuds/arituzz
Summary: It’s like an unspoken routine – Baz busies himself to be the last one in the locker room after the football matches and Snow comes in to make him all sweaty again.





	

If you ask Baz, all this thing is Snow’s fault.

He hears the unmistakable sound of the door opening and closing. Someone failing to go unnoticed while entering the locker room.

Snow.

Baz is filled with a familiar feeling he can only describe through metaphors and analogies: It’s like his heart is rioting within his chest, trying to make an escape; and every cell of his body has suddenly forgotten its main function and has joined the heart’s revolution.

“Baz,” Snow says, behind him.

Baz turns around. “Snow,” he whispers, through his clogged throat.

If you ask Snow, there’s no thing whatsoever. “Come here,” he says.

It’s like an unspoken routine – Baz busies himself to be the last one in the locker room after the football matches and Snow comes in to make him all sweaty again.

Baz always says, “Yes.”

He steps closer to Snow, the palms of his hands already starting to get clammy.

Snow, a man of actions rather than words, reaches over and tugs his fingers through Baz’s ponytail. He’s not gentle.

Baz archs his head back, sucking in a deep breath. “Should I take it down?” he asks.

Snow cups Baz’s jaw in his free hand, tilting Baz’s face to the side. “Merlin, no,” he says. And kisses Baz’s neck. Snow’s hot breath tickles Baz’s skin, sending chills across his body.

Baz settles one hand at the back of Snow’s neck, right where his messy curls end, pulling him closer. The other one finds his way to the small of Snow’s back.

Snow treats Baz’s neck like a target. Kissing, licking, biting it. Baz can feel it in more places than one. Like cause and effect.

His hand travels under Snow’s clothes, cupping his arse. Which has an immediate effect on Snow, too. Snow stops kissing Baz’s neck and looks at him in a way that shoud be illegal. And bites his lip.

Baz feels like a prey.

Snow loosens his grip on Baz’s hair, leaning closer, his lips almost brushing Baz’s. Baz closes his eyes and goes to kiss him. But Snow steps back.

“Let me kiss you,” Baz says.

Snow offers him a twisted smile. “Ask nicely,” he says.

And Baz can’t believe how incredibly hard that makes him. “Please,” he begs. “Let me kiss you.”

Snow runs his tongue over his upper lip, staring at Baz, and steps closer. He reaches over and pulls at Baz’s shirt collar. And kisses him.

Snow pushes Baz as he kisses him, pinning him against Baz’s locker. It hurts a little. But it doesn’t matter. The only things that matter are Snow’s expert lips against Baz’s mouth and the annoying fact that there are still clothes between them.

If you ask Baz’s locker, it’d say maybe they could do all this no-thing a bit more gently.

Baz yanks desperately at Snow’s jumper, throwing it to the floor. Snow takes his time unbuttoning Baz’s shirt. He kisses Baz’s skin as he goes down, button by button by fucking button. Baz wishes he could just rip it off.

When he’s finally done, Snow continues with Baz’s trousers and pants.

Snow likes to drive Baz insane. He breathes and kisses and licks Baz’s hardness endlessly. Slowly. Fucking torturing him.

And then Snow stops and looks back up at Baz.

That’s a sight Baz will remember later on: Snow on his knees, looking up at him before swallowing him whole.

Baz can’t help tugging at Simon’s hair as he blows him. He also can’t help the moans that come out from his throat. Or arching his hips up, pushing his hardness into Simon’s mouth.

One of the best things in this life is fucking Simon’s mouth. It’s so good it’s _too good_. “Simon…” Baz moans. “Stop.”

But Simon only goes faster.

“Simon,” Baz says between breaths. “Fuck me. Please,” he begs.

Simon’s eyes go wild at Baz’s words and pulls off. “Merlin, Baz,” he says. “You’re such a bad boy.” He smiles devilishly and gives a lick to Baz’s cock. “Pure evil.”

Baz can only say, “Yes. I am.”

Simon gives Baz’s length another lick. “So bad,” he says.

“So,” Baz says, moaning. “Fucking,” he continues as Simon keeps licking. “Bad.” He wants Simon so badly. “Punish me, Snow,” he says.

Simon turns Baz around. He takes his own trousers and pants off before pressing his hardness against Baz’s butt. He starts rubbing it against Baz as he takes Baz’s length in his hand.

“Snow, just–” Baz starts, almost gasping. “Fuck me.”

Simon breathes into Baz’s ear. “Call me Simon,” he says. And bites Baz’s ear.

It’s too fucking much. “Simon…”

Simon steps back for a moment. Baz hears him rummaging for something.

And then Baz feels him again. Hot and hard as he goes inside him. Finally. Baz takes a firm grip of his locker, in order not to lose his balance.

Simon fucks like he fights: Hard. Fast and rough, like there’s no tomorrow. Obviously, Baz fights back.

Simon likes to whisper things into Baz’s ear, which makes it very difficult for Baz to last more than five minutes. Fucking Simon Snow’s mouth is second only to being fucked by Simon Snow.

Four or five dirty words later, Baz is coming hard against the locker. He says, “I love you, Simon.” But he’s so breathless that only a gasp comes out.

Simon follows him immeditely after. “I love you, too,” he replies, only it comes out a muffled sound.

They stay like this for a moment, recovering their breaths. Baz turns around and takes Simon’s sight in, seizing every second he gets to see him like this (for future use): Panting. Red cheeks. Bronze curls so messy it’s obvious he’s just had sex.

Only because he knows it wont last much longer, Baz takes Simon into his arms. It’s fucking painful how fast Simon can go from “ _there’s no tomorrow”_ to “ _today never happened._ ”

Baz keeps waiting for the blow; for Simon to deny the obvious, as he always does.

Simon breathes in Baz’s hair before pulling him back.

So here it comes. Now’s when he says, “This is nothing.”

Instead, Simon kisses Baz’s lips, slowly. Nothing like before. He tucks a strand of Baz’s hair behind his ear. And smiles. “This is everything,” he says.

-FIN-


End file.
